


Mounted

by Destinyllama



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Fisting, Anal Sex, BDSM, Dom/sub, Fisting, M/M, Pegging, Rope Bondage, Size Kink, Trans Jonah Magnus, bottom mordechai lukas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-21
Updated: 2020-06-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:41:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24836332
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destinyllama/pseuds/Destinyllama
Summary: Their sex is purely transactional, too. Mordechai wants a good fuck, and Magnus wants his ego boosted. It would be less annoying if the dandy didn’t bring his emotional baggage with when they had sex, but at least he doesn’t try to get romantic with Mordechai. The last thing Mordechai wants out of a lay is to be emotional support for whatever fucked up issue they have with sex.---Mordechai gets fisted. This fic is ridiculously horny. I'm so sorry.
Relationships: Mordechai Lukas/Jonah Magnus
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68
Collections: Associated Articles Regarding One Jonah Magnus, Jonah Magnus Week 2020





	Mounted

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize profusely for whatever this is. At least I would if it wasn't so fun to write.
> 
> Huge thanks to dundee998 for betaing this for me and also for FUCKING ENABLING ME.

Jonah Magnus isn't the usual rich brat Mordechai has come to expect from wealthy families. Although there's only so much contempt he can display in polite company, Mordechai Lukas  _ despises _ rich brats, pampered little things that trotted around their father's country estates, living off generational wealth that they did nothing to contribute towards. He's a self-made man, and he has little respect for those unwilling to make sacrifices. There's a certain fire in Jonah's eyes, however, that Mordechai recognizes. It was enough to convince him not to kill the kid after he interfered in some of Mordechai's business dealings, despite the fact that he had cost Mordechai several hundred pounds of lost revenue. And that the Magnuses' "daughter" died only for their never-mentioned son to return from boarding school on the Continent--well, that made it  _ very _ clear that Jonah is both willing to take what he wants from others and has the  _ bollocks _ to do it.

Mordechai likes that. Mordechai likes it quite a bit.

So, at the beginning, he tolerated the emerging Beholding avatar. And tolerance turned to friendly rivalry as he found that Magnus had some bite to him. And alliance, as Magnus proved himself useful. Their partnership is a comfortable thing, as comfortable as the partnerships of their world could be, anyway, with a clear rhythm to it. It's purely transactional, and they both understand that.

Their sex is purely transactional, too. Mordechai wants a good fuck, and Magnus wants his ego boosted. He hadn’t met any servants of Beholding before Magnus (although Smirke did lean somewhat towards the Watcher) but, after talking with Rayner, he did confirm that they were sometimes like that, vain and dramatic. It would be less  _ annoying _ if the dandy didn’t bring his emotional baggage with when they had sex, but at least he doesn’t try to get romantic with Mordechai. The last thing Mordechai wants out of a lay is to be emotional support for whatever fucked up issue they have with sex.

"There we are…"

Jonah pats Mordechai's forearm, satisfied with the bonds he had tied the man in--a cord of rope wrapped around his chest in a sort of harness, accentuating his pecs and securing his hands tight against his back. Mordechai pulls at his restraints, humming in approval when they don't give.

"...Good job, Magnus. That'll hold."

"I did tell you I had been practicing."

Jonah has Mordechai on his knees on one of the Lukas's many chaise lounges, bent over, ass up in the air. He is kind enough to place a pillow under the man’s neck, although he does love the thought of Mordechai struggling to avoid ending up with his face pressed against the leather. The room is bathed in the golden light of a few oil lamps, but the lighting is subpar. There are no windows in this room, there wouldn’t be, but even if there were, this isn’t the sort of room one would visit during the daytime. Jonah had been in this room many times before, watched himself in the large mirror above the fireplace as he was bounced on one of their friend’s cocks, or splayed across the wine-colored velvet couch, with someone’s mouth between his legs. This is also where Mordechai kept his more salacious equipment--several cases of corporal instruments of all kinds, a berkeley horse in the corner, several rather sinister looking hooks hanging from the ceiling and walls, and any number of other obscene items.

“You look beautiful like that, you know.” Jonah arranges his tools for the evening on a serving cart Mordechai had been gracious enough to provide.

“I didn’t need you to tell me that,” Mordechai scoffs.

And he does look  _ beautiful _ . Mordechai Lukas is a huge bear of a man, all muscle and hair and rugged masculinity. Laconic, silent to the point of being rude; every part of him points to a man who had once been accustomed to hard labor. Butch. Uncouth. Nouveau riche, but with the years needed to avoid making a fool of himself in front of others. And Jonah, who is smaller, who is younger, who is more obviously  _ queer _ , has him  _ tied up _ .

“So, our agenda for the evening,” Jonah understands that Mordechai values bluntness and so is blunt, “I’m going to finger you, and then I’m going to fuck you. And you’re going to  _ enjoy _ it.”

“We’ll see if you’re as good at milking a cock as you are at sucking one, eh, Magnus?”

Jonah bites his lip at the insolence, and,  _ of course _ , Mordechai is grinning, because he’s a bastard who feeds off of irritating men like Jonah. He takes a nice handful of Mordechai’s hair and pulls, eliciting a very satisfying groan from the villain.

“ _ Apparently _ , I should have pencilled in a caning as well, but it’s a bit too late to change my plans.”

And Jonah knows Mordechai would have enjoyed that, of course Mordechai would have enjoyed that, because Mordechai likes the detached cruelty of a cane against his thighs. Jonah can tell he likes the way rope scratches against his skin, strains against his muscles, because of the way his mood changes. Mordechai gets sharp when restrained, predatory and focused. Snippy, in a playful sort of way, and sensitive, oh so deliciously sensitive, to Jonah's touches. It's because the bonds convey an unspoken idea to both of them. Strangely, they imply that Mordechai is powerful, for in order to be subdued, he needs to be restrained in tight knots of coiled rope. If he isn’t, he will surely dominate his partner, and that makes Jonah feel all the more accomplished for dominating him.

Jonah feigns disinterest as he gently trails his hand down Mordechai's back to rest it on his buttocks. Rigged like this, there’s no expectation that Mordechai has to reciprocate touches, and no expectation that Jonah has to feign civility. The yoke of polite society, of etiquette, can be put down. Jonah can be as detached as he desires--he can please his partner for no other reason than that he wants to. There is no anxiety about how he will be perceived. There is only the raw physicality of sex, seperated from the men involved in it. There is only the scrape of his chair as he pulls it across the wooden floor and Mordechai’s shiver as his hot breath hits the man’s bollocks. 

It’s an awkward angle, but Jonah manages, taking one of Mordechai’s balls in his mouth while he works the man’s cock with his hand and saliva. A long stripe is licked up the other’s perineum, Jonah’s mouth is against that sensitive ring of muscle, and his tongue is pressing against it in broad, forceful strokes. Mordechai  _ moans _ , and that makes Jonah  _ hungry _ . This mountain pushes his ass back against Jonah, asking for more, and although Jonah’s hand is tiny compared to Mordechai’s buttock, he grabs it possessively nonetheless. His other hand is a fist around Mordechai's massive prick, squeezing it with the kind of brutality that he knows Mordechai is just as eager to dish out.

“...God, you are such a  _ whore _ …” Jonah smirks as he flicks the other’s cock, already red and swollen from this meager attention, and enjoys the way it twitches. 

"...Ahh, like you aren't just as shameless when I'm eating your cunt, Magnus--" Mordechai's words trail off as he hears a bottle being uncorked, and he knows the oil within is being poured onto Jonah's fingers. He grunts when they slide flat against his asshole, warm and slick.

"Hmm, were you going to continue?" Jonah's finger intrudes, making Mordechai  _ pliable _ and  _ open _ , "What about my cunt?"

"...I was going to say, you whimper like a virgin when I'm between your legs," He cranes his neck as he speaks, and Jonah sees a sliver of a wicked grin.

"Oh, do I?"

"You sound--" Mordechai pauses upon the appearance of another finger, "--You sound like a boy getting his first taste of cock."

Jonah chuckles, but it's low and vindictive. Mordechai knows he's insulted him, because seconds later Jonah finds his prostate and pushes with a furious intensity.

"...I am going to  _ ruin _ you, Lukas; I hope you understand that,” Jonah snaps and rubs in spiteful circles that make Mordechai's toes curl.

“...Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Mordechai gasps, his cock leaking thick strands of seminal fluid.

“Oh, you liked that, didn’t you? Shall I do that again?” And Jonah repeats the motion just to hear the man moan.

“...You’re a right fucking bastard… God…” Mordechai spits, his brow furrowing with considerable effort, "...I can hardly feel anything with those small fingers of yours, Magnus." Which is a boldfaced lie given the noises Mordechai is making, and Jonah rewards his fabrication with a particularly cruel curl of his fingers that makes Mordechai grunt.

"Careful,  _ Lukas _ , or I may have to stick my entire hand up your arse," Jonah sneers.

There's a few seconds of pause; Mordechai lifts his eyebrows, which makes Jonah push his tongue into his cheek as he realizes the other man is  _ seriously _ considering it.

“God, you disgust me…” Jonah removes his fingers to generously apply more lube.

Mordechai snorts, “With the things you’ve shoved up your cunt?”

Jonah scrunches his nose because, well, Mordechai makes a fair point, but Jonah isn't going to admit that. Certainly not while he’s about to fit his hand up the man’s ass. He pours more oil over Mordechai’s hole, just to be safe, enjoying how open the man looks. It’s a nice view, admittedly, the Lukas family patriarch with his ass up in the air like a whore. And the way Jonah’s fingers slip so easily back into place is nice, too. Fitting two is so easy, and a third is no struggle. Mordechai is a big man, after all; he can handle a few fingers. They thrust in and out, working him to something more accommodating, and Jonah gives a few congratulatory tugs on his cock.

“ _ Good boy _ ,” Jonah purrs, and Mordechai is too busy gritting his teeth in anticipation to respond.

Four isn’t too much of a problem, either; it isn’t until Jonah starts sliding his knuckles inward that there start to be difficulties. Mordechai is taking heavy breaths through his nose in preparation, and Jonah delights in the sound.

“Ready?” Jonah asks, and Mordechai nods wordlessly, spreading his legs a bit more to accommodate.

Jonah’s hand slides in with a tense sluggishness, knuckles breaching slow enough for him to feel Mordechai’s muscles clench. It’s held there for a moment by the powerful ring of muscle, stretching Mordechai’s opening absurdly wide. It feels like an eternity--Jonah certainly hopes it does to Mordechai--where a huge object barely able to fit the space around it is forced in. Each ridge on Jonah's hand is an ordeal of its own; he can feel Mordechai flinch with each new intrusion, only serving to constrict what can already barely fit. When all of the knuckles slip in, the rest of the hand follows with ease, and Jonah's hand is enveloped in overwhelming wet heat. He lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding and smiles as Mordechai groans loudly.

“...Alright…Alright, good, there it is…” Mordechai shifts his legs to better accommodate the hand inside him as he speaks breathlessly, “...You can go ahead, Magnus…”

It isn’t the first time Jonah's fisted someone (or watched someone be fisted or  _ been fisted himself _ for that matter), so, even if he can’t see Mordechai’s face from this angle, he knows what's happening as he forms a fist inside Mordechai. Jonah can imagine his eyes rolling back into his head, the vulnerable way his mouth opens as he retreats into his own mind. When Jonah curls his fingers, forms his hand into a larger shape, the crushing pressure surrounding it intensifies. It was already intense, but now it’s as though Mordechai’s insides are trying to constrict him, to push out something that  _ should not be there. _ The fullness must be agonizing for him, and Jonah deliberately makes it moreso, dragging his knuckles over Mordechai’s prostate. This makes the man whimper, as the feeling must be as though Jonah is stretching him to his limits, taking him as far as he can go without breaking irreparably. Jonah, for all the fun he has on the receiving end of cruelty, is a consummate  _ sadist _ .

Jonah can  _ feel _ Mordechai’s orgasm even before the man vocalizes it. His muscles spasm deep inside, clenching again and again over Jonah’s fist in pulse after rapid pulse. The man’s balls contract and throb, tensing, as though fucking into a hole that isn’t there. There’s a spurt of milky fluid from Mordechai’s cock and then another, thick and viscous and  _ dripping _ , and Jonah thinks about how much he’d like to taste it, even though the angle isn’t right to do so. He’d like to lap it up and spit it directly in Mordechai’s face, really cement how little he thinks of the man. He continues to push cruelly against that spot behind Mordechai’s walls, again and again, drawing out his partner’s shudders into something long and arduous, almost painful in its intensity and length. And all throughout it, Mordechai is  _ wet _ for him. 

When Jonah relents and compresses his hand into something more manageable, Mordechai is heaving and groaning. His whole body is shivering with exertion, his head pressed lewdly against the leather of the lounge. Jonah leans over to see a pool of saliva under Mordechai’s cheek and  _ smiles _ .

“Oh, now isn’t that a cute sight.”

“...Fuck… Bloody hell…” Mordechai pants, “...Oh, god, just give me a moment’s respite, will you…”

Jonah's fist slips out with a pop, and he chuckles darkly, “ _ No _ , I don’t think I will. Do you know how debauched you look right now?”

Mordechai groans loudly, “...I’m sure you’ll tell me…”

Jonah circles around to Mordechai’s side, so that he can look the other in the eye. He’s smug, naturally, even more so as he begins to speak, “Properly  _ ruined _ \--” His hand rubs over Mordechai’s hole, making the man moan, “-- _ Loose _ , like I just rented you to half a dozen other men.”

“...God, will you just shut up for once in your life, Magnus…” Mordechai grumbles.

Jonah crouches down to be at eye level with Mordechai and says in an oddly serious tone, “...Do you want me to fuck you?”

“...Yes,” Mordechai sighs loudly, as if it were an unfortunate fact he’s burdened with.

“Then you’ll just have to endure my talking, won’t you?” Jonah replies in a questionably sweet tone. He pats Mordechai on the head like a beloved pet and turns to retrieve his next tools. Mordechai shifts in his restraints, and Jonah likes to think that the man is getting uncomfortable.

After wiping his hands off with a handkerchief (slowly as to build tension), Jonah turns around to start slipping a harness around himself. It’s the strap-on he usually uses for occasions like this--a set of leather thongs that encircle thighs and waist with a ring held in place by buttons. The dildo he brought is an ample size, made from ivory; however, before he is able to place it in the harness, he looks at it, then makes eye contact with Mordechai.

He hadn’t expected fisting to be on the agenda when he selected this size.

"...That's the cock you brought?” Mordechai sighs, looking the thing up and down, “That's not going to be enough."

"No, not after what I did to you," Jonah smirks, "Pity, you're just far too  _ used _ for me to fuck you properly.”

Mordechai very obviously ignores the comment, pursing his lips, "...You brought other rings, right?" He motions with his head, "Go look in my cabinet. Second shelf down. The big mahogany box."

Mordechai, lecher that he is, has a decent collection of sex toys. Jonah walks over to the large display cabinet, opening the door and perusing the contents at his leisure. He notes several new pieces and wonders what unlucky soul got to test them out: either it was Mordechai, with whatever dominatrix he had hired for the purpose, or some pretty young thing the brigand had chosen to corrupt. 

Jonah’s finger traces over the box Mordechai had described, casually opening it. He jumps two steps back--whatever he was expecting, it wasn’t  _ that _ .

"Hell and the  _ Devil _ , Mordechai, is that a  _ horse's prick _ !?"

"Yeah," He's clearly amused that he's shocking his companion.

Jonah takes it out of its box,  _ offended _ at the size of the thing. It isn’t the size of an actual horse cock (he assumes), but it’s large and wooden and… Veiny? There’s a level of detail carved into the polished wood that concerns Jonah.

“You had a reproduction of a horse’s cock made--” Jonah holds the obscene object in the air, glancing back and forth between it and Mordechai, “--For  _ caudling _ .”

“Yeah.”

There’s a pause, as Jonah considers how large it is. How it would… Feel.

“...You’re letting me borrow this.”

“I am,” Mordechai grins, clearly imagining something, “I’d like to see you try to ride that sometime, Magnus… If you can manage it.”   
“Well, we’ll have to see sometime, won’t we…” Jonah’s eyes go wide at the prospect as he walks back across the room.

He has to switch out the ring in his harness for a larger size--fortunately easy to do--and the cock fits nicely against his naked groin. It’s a bit larger than what proportionally looks right on him, but there’s a certain satisfaction about holding the weight of it with one hand--as though it is an extension of his own body. He slicks it up with oil, his hips twitching a bit, imagining how it would feel to have his  _ own  _ cock stroked.

Mordechai is amply prepared, of course, so Jonah simply lines up his cock with Mordechai’s entrance and begins to push in. In imitation of a horse’s prick, the tip is flared, and Jonah can tell Mordechai’s forgotten to breathe as it penetrates him. Jonah gives him a reassuring pat on the ass, not entirely sincere, and Mordechai’s breaths begin again, labored, tense, and loud. Each bit of progress makes the breaths stutter, and when Jonah is  _ quick _ for a brief moment, Mordechai wails  _ like a virgin _ . 

" _ Oh _ , I like that noise," Jonah pushes in another agonizing inch faster than Mordechai is expecting, drawing a startled whine from the man, "Go on,  _ Boy _ , see if you can take more of my cock."

"...Fuck you, Magnus…" Mordechai spits through gritted teeth.

And yet he pushes back against the length, asking for more. Jonah is more than happy to oblige him, savoring the groans Mordechai makes with every bit of progress, The way the man's thighs shake as he struggles, and how the dark curls that cover his body all glimmer with sweat. This huge, muscular bull of a man is speared on him, on his  _ cock _ , and he can take him apart with the slightest shift of his hips, the smallest movement. It makes Jonah  _ shiver _ with excitement. It makes him feel  _ powerful.  _ He stuffs a hand underneath his harness because he can't help but touch himself. His prick is hard and aching; his thighs are slick with need. He wishes he was facing the mirror on the hearth behind him, just to get off at the sight: him, standing potent, dominant,  _ masculine _ , over the shuddering figure bent over in supplication to  _ him _ . Mordechai is worshipping Jonah with his body, and Jonah thrusts forward and makes Mordechai  _ scream _ .

And god, oh god, it makes Jonah  _ cum _ .

His legs twitch and shake, and he needs to brace his hand on Mordechai’s back to stay standing. But he doesn’t stop, he works himself all the way through his orgasm, drawing out every last iota of pleasure. His mouth is open and his vision is fuzzy as the wave finally dissipates. All he can hear is his own labored breathing, but he quickly works to change that, rocking slowly back and forth to wrench out more of those delicious strangled whimpers from Mordechai. God, Jonah wants to be  _ cruel _ to him. Jonah wants to fuck into him,  _ really _ fuck into him, hear choked sobs of pain, and would that really be so bad? They have a safeword after all; Mordechai can use it if he wants.

No, no, Jonah wants to do this again, and he knows that’s farther than Mordechai would be able to take. He’s not going to lose this privilege.

“...Hah…” Jonah braces his hand in the space between Mordechai’s hip and massive thigh, “...Do you want me to touch your prick, Boy?”

To Jonah’s immense delight, Mordechai’s voice comes out hoarse, “... _ Y-Yes _ …”

“...I know courtesy isn’t your forte, but I’d like something a bit more--” Jonah snaps his hips, and Mordechai gasps, “--Mm,  _ formal _ .”

“...Fuck, fuck…” Jonah can see a trail of spit stream down from Mordechai’s mouth as he speaks, “...Please,  _ Sir _ …”

“Oh, that is  _ much better _ .”

Jonah rewards his submissive, his  _ Boy _ , with leisurely, tight strokes over the man's cock. His hand pauses so he can rub the dripping head with his thumb, something that makes Mordechai jump involuntarily.

"...Ohhh, thank you, Sir, thank you thank you thank you--" Mordechai's sentence becomes unintelligible as he desperately thrusts into Jonah's hand.

It’s completely pathetic--which only makes it all the more attractive. Mordechai’s movements rock them both back and forth. Back onto Jonah’s cock… Forward into Jonah’s hand… Until he feels Mordechai shake apart. It hardly takes any time at all, the man is so overstimulated. Thick white ropes shoot out onto the lounge, joining the already considerable amount of fluid that's accumulated over the evening.

Jonah is slow and gentle as he pulls out, and silent, because Mordechai is too far gone for any kind of coherent conversation. As Jonah removes his cock and harness, he tilts his head, surveying the  _ damage _ he's done. It is  _ considerable _ , and it is  _ delicious _ . His lover is in a state of distant bliss, mentally departed because of the intense scene, mouth still half open, eyes dreamy and rolled back. His ass is obviously well used, slick with oil and gaping obscenely, the dark curls surrounding it shiny with sweat and lubricant.

The aftercare is thorough and practical; Jonah gets the poor man some water and checks his wrists and chest for bruises and damaged circulation. He rubs the affected areas well while Mordechai stretches and cracks his neck. Mordechai usually cuddles after intense scenes, which Jonah doesn't quite understand. Something about close physical touch promotes healing and comfort, prevents lasting emotional damage, but there is no talking and no noise. It's oddly detached, but Jonah slides himself into Mordechai's arms anyway, because he enjoys being the little spoon to Mordechai's huge, comfortable form. Besides… They could both use some rest.


End file.
